


so i choke on sun

by mandyfuckinmilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Season 2 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandyfuckinmilkovich/pseuds/mandyfuckinmilkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is though some of what Ian talks about isn't really bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so i choke on sun

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 2x02 after Mickey comes back. Inspired by Welcome Home by Radical Face.

Ian talks a lot of bullshit sometimes.

Most of the time.

All the fucking time and Mickey’s wondering when he started giving a damn. Probably somewhere in between a tire iron digging into his back and Ian’s face greeting him outside the gate, smiling at him like he’s never been happier than he is to be seeing him, and saying, “Hey Mick,” reminding Mickey that oh, yeah, he has a heart.

And that it’s a fucking traitor for speeding up whenever he’s around this guy. Whatever.

The point is Ian says stupid shit.

"You make any friends on the inside or-" Bullshit. He wants and probably likes shutting Ian up a bit too much but he can think on that later.

Mickey probably comes off a bit too eager, basically offering himself up, but fuck. Ian’s gotten taller and his freckles have faded and there’s beer running down his chin. Mickey licks his lips and reaches for his zipper, grinning when Ian does the same.

His fingers dig into the chain link fence and Ian’s slow with him at first, taking his time, enjoying it or some sappy shit, but it’s not what Mickey wants right then.

"Tight," Ian warns him, his hands holding Mickey steady and softly.

Bullshit.

"Don’t fucking care," Mickey bites out, breathing heavily through his mouth and then Ian sort of laughs into his neck and moves his hips faster, his fingers digging into his skin hard enough to bruise. Mickey wants them, wants Ian to mark him up and go fast and make him feel. And Mickey laughs back, loudly, happily, stupidly, because it’s been awhile since he’s felt this.

It’s been awhile since Mickey’s been able to just be like this.

Ian mumbles something into his back about missing this, him, and Mickey takes a shuddering breath, looking up through glazed eyes at the black sky.

It’s been awhile since he’s been in this fucking terrifying and uncomfortable space where he finally feels… just feels.

//

The thing is though some of what Ian talks about isn’t really bullshit.

They go again after trying to outdo each other in pullups and Mickey eyes Ian up and down as he does them because shit. The kid he came back to isn’t really a kid anymore.

He still talks like a kid though, with all these ideas about Mickey going to community college and taking classes and fucking vocational training shit and it hits Mickey in the gut that those opportunities aren’t made for someone like him, were never meant for him to have. Mickey wouldn’t even know how to have something like that, what to do with it.

Ian though could have them. Knows how to have them. Wants them even.

And Mickey can’t find fault in that for Ian.

He can’t call bullshit on that.

//

"I told Fiona."

They’re walking home. Well Mickey’s walking, Ian’s looking to get a broken neck, hopping up on a rail and walking it like a tight rope. He’s got this wide grin and he looks loose and care fucking free and Mickey gets it, coming always makes him feel weightless, more so because he just got out, his head is still fuzzy with cheap beer and. 

Ian stumbles a bit, yelping out and cursing and laughing. Mickey feels warmth in his chest and he grins in spite of himself.

Fuck. It’s Ian. And him. Them. Whatever, Ian’s a fucking idiot and makes Mickey feel like one too.

"Told her what?"

"About me. Ya know."

Mickey’s stomach sort of drops and he feels sobriety creeping up his back. Jesus. He fishes around in his pocket for his lighter and cigarettes.

Ian hobbles, his arms spread out, and finally hops down, giving Mickey a slanted grin. Mickey shoves him.

"She was fine with it," Ian says after a few minutes of walking.

Mickey hums around lighting a cigarette.

"Think she’d be fine if I brought someone around. Maybe. Eventually."

Mickey snorts out a laugh. Ian’s a lot of things. Subtle isn’t one of them.

He passes the cigarette off, ignoring the pointed way Ian’s looking at him.

"I mean… Lip already sorta knows so-"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Ian’s eyes sort of go all wide and he shuffles around and Mickey knows exactly what he’s talking about and his hands clench. Bull. Shit.

"You’ve gotta be shitting me Gallagher."

"It just happened, it just came out-" Mickey almost laughs because fuck, the irony wants to choke him-"right before I went to see you that first time, but he’s fine with it, he didn’t even say anything about it-"

"And if he fucking does, I’ll fucking end him."

And that’s the end of it as far as Mickey’s concerned.

"But Mick-"

"Just give it a rest Gallagher."

Because Ian’s got the idea that shit can be fixed by talking it to death but Mickey doesn’t want to dwell on this, doesn’t want to give it any more energy or attention than he’s already spent.

Ian side-eyes him as they continue walking and when they separate at an intersection, Mickey going one way, Ian the other, Ian pauses and stuffs his hands in his pockets, slouching and looking like a kicked dog.

Fuck.

"I’ll see you tomorrow right? At the store?" He sounds like one too.

"Yeah." Mickey nods. It’s better than some factory or tarring roofs so. Yeah.

Ian nods back and looks at him again, opens his mouth to say something, but just ends up nodding again and turning down the street.

"Hey Gallagher," Mickey calls out, cursing in his head. Ian turns and Mickey shoots him a small grin. "Thanks. For the job and shit."

It takes a second, but Ian’s grin is wide and illuminated by the street light and he gives a little wave and Mickey doesn’t feel like such a piece of shit for snapping at him.

He walks home and thinks on all this. All this bullshit.

Ian’s got the luxury of not really having any fucks about who and what he is and who he fucks and he’s got a family that doesn’t have any fucks either. A sister who wouldn’t mind him bringing someone, Mickey, around. Eventually.

Mickey chews on his thumbnail until he hits skin.

He doesn’t know if Eventually will ever come. If he’ll ever reach Eventually.

Ian will though. He’s probably already there, the way he was looking at Mickey all day.

And he’s back in that terrifying, uncomfortable space, only now, it feels like Ian’s right there with him. Saying things that should make sense, things that Mickey wants to believe, like it’ll be fine, his sister and brother would be and are fine with it, but Mickey just can’t see that yet.

It’s too far. Too uncomfortable and even more terrifying.

Because Mickey’s fine navigating this thing alone. He knows how to do it by himself.

Having someone else there, someone who wants to be there, someone who wants Mickey to be with him there…

That’s not bullshit.


End file.
